Lake Bonny

I had quite the experience at Lake Bonny. I went around 10 in the morning when it was cloudy and windy. :) I love that kind of weather and it reminded me of home so it seemed to fit perfectly. I went alone and walked around for quite awhile thinking about where I wanted to sit and quieting my mind. Then I found the dock looking area and went out there.
The whole time I was trying to be really aware of the small beauties of nature without making myself search for them. I let them find me. And that they did. The wind was really starting to pick up, making it hard to read my Mary Oliver poems. In frustration I looked to my right and saw a whole bunch of water plants. They resembled giant grass, I have no clue what the technical term is, but the wind was so strong that it was shaking them violently. This captured my attention for a few minutes. They looked as if they were dancing.
We have been talking in class about taking care of nature and playing our part, but I felt like I was observing the rough side of nature. The water was really choppy, the sky was dark and harsh, the trees and plants were going crazy; it was not a calm morning.
Then oddly I saw a bird eating some type of bug. Doesn't sound all that captivating, but considering my thoughts, it was. But then, the worst part happens.
I am sitting there quietly just observing, and I hear this bird making a weird sound. It was flying right above me. Then :) it pooped all over me. Yes, it pooped on me.
I simply sat there and laughed at myself. What luck. I was the only one in the park that morning, and there was plenty of pooping space all around, but it happened to land on me.
Instead of letting it ruin my time, I collected myself and continued reading and looking around. I love nature and it is still captivating when its blowing your hair all over the place, ripping at your papers, and even when it poops on you. It was still peaceful to me, even amongst the chaos.
Nature does what it needs too. Its beauty never ceases.

"Let me keep my mind on what matters, which is my work, which is standing still and learning to be astonished."